


Irene-Molly-Andrew Slaves

by wheel_pen



Series: Miscellaneous Sherlock Stories [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: A short, unfinished piece. The backstory is that there are magical elements in the world and also slavery, and Sherlock (with John) has been temporarily banned from London for some reason, but he and John have come back briefly to shop for some slaves. They find a package deal consisting of Irene, Molly, and a guy named Andrew, who kind of looks like Moriarty in my mind.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Miscellaneous Sherlock Stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/258127
Kudos: 1





	Irene-Molly-Andrew Slaves

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

“Couldn’t we just order them online?” he asked, nose wrinkling in distaste as he looked around.

“No,” his companion answered firmly. “Come on. Shouldn’t think this place would really bother _you_ ,” he added. “Thought _I_ was the soft-hearted one.”

“It’s not my _heart_ I’m worried about,” Sherlock replied, dodging away from a grubby pair of hands reaching out to him.

John rolled his eyes. “You, who run through the sewers, socialize with homeless people, and keep eyeballs in the microwave.”

“Yes?” Sherlock was looking at him questioningly. “Oh, I thought you were just summoning me,” he realized, as John’s attempt at a clever comment failed yet again.

John sighed and turned back to the map on his phone. “Let’s just get this over with,” he insisted. “Domestics are this way.”

They threaded through the tents and cages of the slave market, ignoring the calls from vendors advertising their wares. Despite disliking the close proximity with irrational humanity, Sherlock appreciated the energy, the possibility of London, its speed and convenience and capacity for distraction. He missed it, and he knew John did, too, by the way he was staring at the buildings looming around them instead of at the slaves they were supposedly looking for.

“Maybe we should drop by Baker Street while we’re in town,” Sherlock suggested, without subtlety.

This had the opposite effect of what he’d wanted, snapping John out of his daydream. “No, Baker Street is fine,” he said, determined not to be sidetracked further. “We’re going to buy Mrs. Hudson some domestic help and then get out of here. Back to the country,” he specified, just in case.

“It’s so boring in the country!” Sherlock just had to whine, as they turned down another aisle.

“Well, you should’ve thought of that,” John replied shortly, and Sherlock fell silent. Technically, Lestrade’s ban applied only to Sherlock; John could leave him, and spend all the time he wanted in London. And the only thing Sherlock could think of that would be worse than being stuck out in the country, was being stuck there without John.

John noticed his unnatural silence and sought to cheer him up, however undeserved. “Think of all the reading you’re getting done,” he suggested. “And the experiments!”

Sherlock’s lack of response to this was response enough. “Domestics,” he pointed out, and John made a sharp turn down the aisle he’d almost missed.

He had planned to be very prepared, so they could get in and out of the city before sunset, when Sherlock’s ban kicked back in—they’d already had to notify Lestrade that they were coming to London for a few hours, and John occasionally wondered if random people were plainclothes police officers assigned to watch them—but once he’d started reading about the slaves John had found he couldn’t sort through them dispassionately. He wanted to take them all home, make sure they were well-treated. Sherlock could’ve managed the advance prep easily, except it bored him too much. So now they were left wandering past the booths of various maids and gardeners and cooks and nannies, John finally forcing himself to do a _little_ online filtering.

“Why does Mrs. Hudson even _need_ help?” Sherlock asked idly. “Alcoholic,” he judged, when John started to pause before a thirtyish woman.

They moved on. “I think she’s more lonely than anything else,” John revealed, wondering how Sherlock would react to that. “It’s only the two of us, and considering you’re _you_ —”

“Lazy,” Sherlock deduced of a young man John was glancing at.

“—that leaves only one person in the house she can have a conversation with,” John finished dryly.

“Do people _need_ more than one?” Sherlock asked curiously. “Thief.”

John tried to take this as a compliment, that Sherlock was content with only his companionship. “Some people, yeah,” he told him. “And considering she takes care of the entire house and grounds all on her own—”

“She’s _magical_ ,” Sherlock pointed out. “It’s hardly difficult. Poor personal hygiene.”

“—I think she can have another person to talk to if she wants,” John concluded. He stopped before a large cage holding three young people, two women and a man. One woman leaned on the bars, boldly making eye contact with people passing by, while the other two sat on the floor next to each other, gazes dropping when John looked at them.

A salesman in a dark suit stepped up to them smoothly. “Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked.

Sherlock seemed unusually interested in the bold woman, looking her up and down even as she did the same to him. “Er, I’m looking for a domestic,” John said, turning away from Sherlock. “Which one is Molly?”

“The other one, obviously,” Sherlock told him patronizingly, indicating the woman sitting on the floor. He went back to the one who was standing. “This one is no domestic,” he added.

“That’s right,” she purred flirtatiously. “I’ve never been domesticated.”

“Yet you’re still in a cage,” Sherlock zinged.

“Sherlock, don’t be rude, please,” John told him, the ‘please’ saying he meant business. It was one thing to be rude to people who could walk away from you; quite another to inflict it upon slaves at a market.

“Maybe you just need a little discipline,” the woman suggested to Sherlock, and his eyebrows went up slightly. John rolled his eyes and left him to his own devices.

“Yes, Molly is an excellent domestic assistant,” the salesman was telling John. “She served her last master for a very long time—Lady Englethorpe?”

His name-dropping worked. “Lady Englethorpe?” John repeated in surprise. The—um, the archaeologist’s wife, right? Before that she was the oil baron’s widow—um—”

“Castlemaine,” Sherlock supplied, watching the bold woman’s reaction carefully.

“That’s right,” John agreed. In the upper crust of society, then, at least before you hit barons and earls. So were the Holmeses, on the rare occasions they chose to socialize. “All three of them belong to her? Why is she selling them?”

The salesman adopted a sober expression. “Sadly Lady Englethorpe recently died,” he informed John. “Her husband, Lord Englethorpe, has decided to sell them, as he’ll be traveling abroad and no longer requires their services. As you see,” he went on, directing the slaves to get up and come closer to the bars, “we have two very fine domestics, Molly and Andrew, and Irene, a pleasure slave.” Irene made a coy little face at Sherlock as he said this.

“Why isn’t she with the other pleasure slaves?” Sherlock asked challengingly, not looking at the salesman.

“The three of them work better as a team,” the salesman explained. His tone tried to make this seem normal, but it finally attracted even Sherlock’s attention. “They were raised together from childhood, like siblings.”

“Only they have sex with each other,” Sherlock commented confidently.

“Naturally,” Irene agreed. “Do you like that idea?”

John did not want to hear Sherlock’s answer. “They’re not a package deal, though, are they?” he checked. “We’re really only looking for one domestic.”


End file.
